Black Swimsuit
by GiGiSnakes
Summary: This is fan fiction inspired by the TV show The Fall. Two women become jealous of each other when they feel they don't get the treatment they deserve from their bereavement counselor.


BLACK SWIMSUIT

SHERRY WOOD

COPYRIGHT 2015 SHERRY WOOD

SMASHWORDS EDITION

Paul Spector will see you now.

#TheFall fanfiction #erotica #S&amp;M

I got a red dress, yellow dress, black dress

I got a closet full of miracles

Pink panties, blue panties, yellow panties

I'm gonna wrap around your nose, oh pantyhose

-Prick, _Other People_

Part 1

"You, um, Dropped Your Handcuffs"

Part 2

"A Good Mystery on a Saturday"

Part 3

"People Mourn In Different Ways"

Part 1

"You, um, Dropped Your Handcuffs"

1

Lonnytown was a lonely, dismal little town in Ireland. It rained all the time and everyone seemed quite miserable. People kept to themselves – work, dinner, bed. I was not excluded from this but I still had hope things would get better – that somewhere just outside of this moss-covered cottage was excitement waiting to take over my life.

All I wanted to do was go to Belfast Metropolitan College – just get out of Lonnytown, study writing. I had won many writing contests and knew I had it in me to succeed. I had on my blue and white BMC sweatshirt today. It was chilly and, as always, rainy. But the day had finally come where I could be more than Dad's little helper at his pub. I could put this brain of mine to good use. I could explore Belfast. I would be on my own. I would go to school there. I made it happen.

"Just one more," Dad said, lifting a wooden crate of pint glasses and placing them on the bar of his pub. He was giving me this funny look – obviously amused by something.

"What?" I started wiping my face with the sleeves of my bulky, comfy sweatshirt. "I have food on my face – I hate those wings! Too much sauce!" My fussing only tickled my dad even more. He took away the little red basket I'd been eating out of. I supposed I would miss the food hear, the dreary old pub only lit up by an enormous romantic chandelier hanging from the rotting ceiling.

"Then why do you eat it?" he finally got the words out even though he was still laughing in that adoring father type of way.

"I get hungry," I complained.

"Now who's gonna be there to let you know when you have something on your face?" he remarked. I knew he wasn't ready for his little girl to move out on my own, but I couldn't take one more day of being around my depressed mother. I loved my dad, but his life wasn't going anywhere. They did the same exact thing every day. Mom sat on the couch and watched TV while Dad spent almost every hour at the pub.

"Okay, take these and we'll get going." He put his hand on the wooden crate.

"Thanks for giving me these glasses," I said. Even though I didn't know what I was going to do with the beer pint and wine glass sets. I would be living alone, after all.

"It's the best I could do – sorry I couldn't get you a real going away present."

"It's okay, Dad. These are great."

I lifted the crate and carried it out into the rain and over to dad's little two-door sports car. Now I would have rain in my wine glasses. Once I was in my new apartment, all settled, I'd wash them out.

"We'll have to bring the rest of your stuff up next weekend," Dad said as I went back to collect the final crate of glasses. This set included some cool vintage Irish gold shamrock shot glasses. "Your mother and I will come up with all of your fancy stuff." Dad winked at me. He was drunk as usual and his face was red and his graying hair was all over the place.

"Okay dad." I lifted the crate and reintroduced myself to the rain, hoping Dad was sober enough to drive.

"I still am not happy about the fact that you chose to live off-campus."

"I know, Dad, but it's my decision." I tried to be polite without being apologetic. I wanted to live off-campus. The apartment I found was beautiful. "What am I going to do with all of those glasses?" I asked, listening to them clank together as we made out departure from Lonnytown and headed to Belfast. I could not express the excitement in my belly as the thought of a brand new life took over my mind. It was finally happening. All of those months of staying in my old bedroom and listening to mom and dad fight and feeling liked I'd never get out of there, had ceased. Those glasses clanking and in danger of breaking was proof that things were finally in motion, and very fragile.

"Have a house party – you're going to be so lonely there." I could hear the concern in dad's voice but, unlike my mom, he had confidence in me that I could make it on my own. He was trying to be positive. My dad was "the sun will come out tomorrow" type while my mom was there "it's raining today" type. I wasn't sure yet which type I was.

I'd been a bit babied. I had not had time to figure out myself yet really. Dad worked hard at his pub and I worked there too, though I was sick of it. I was glad that finally ended.

"I'm won't be lonely, Dad," I swore, but I was starting to think he was right. I would have to brush up on my social skills and make new friends was all.

2

The brick wall entrance to Greggs Quay had its giant GQ letters on it, like the magazine except the letters were more gothic and less elegant. The whole place had a rather gothic vibe. The huge, upscale apartment complex faced the River Logan, with a great view of Crown Bar, one of the biggest and fanciest pubs in all of Belfast. I had never been there – I hadn't explored lots of things – but I'd read about it and seen it in movies. The view along with the huge windows and gorgeous refurbished hardwood floors in the apartments was what sold me. It was so much better than any smelly, cruddy dorm. Oh, and Greggs Quay had a pool. I neglected to tell my parents this, they would have told me it was too fancy – that a girl just starting out on her own didn't need such accommodations. Mom did not think I deserved special treatment and Dad just worried that once I was on my own, the world would tear me apart.

"Well, here we are." Dad parked and looked around before getting out of the car. I glanced over at the nice white marble picnic tables and benches facing the river. That would be a nice sunbathing spot. I thought it was very relaxing here but I did wonder if at night it was a little unnervingly desolate. There were no other apartment complexes surrounding GQ, everything to do with civilization seemed to be across the river.

Dad followed me across the parking lot and through the front doors. The strong smell of chlorine from the pool snuck up our noses and even made my eyes water. There was a woman at the front desk, set up just like at a hotel.

"Hello," she smiled while she fidgeted with a pen cap, taking it off her pen and then screwing it right back on. "Welcome to Greggs Quay." She had a huge smile on her face and didn't blink.

"Thank you, this is my daughter Lindsay." Why was dad introducing me? This was embarrassing. "Hi Lindsay, I'm Melanie, nice to meet you!"

"You too." I shyly stood back, almost hiding behind my dad.

"This is her first time living on her own – her first place ever." Dad sounded both proud and sad. And embarrassing. I cringed and my face ran hot.

"Yup, okay, nice to meet you," I waved bye to Melanie and headed for the elevator.

"What floor?" Dad asked. I could tell he was fighting to say what he really wanted – don't do this, you're not ready, we still have to baby you, I want to protect you and make sure you stay a virgin for the rest of your life.

"Fourth," I answered, pushing the button rather hard.

"So there's a pool?" Dad obviously smelled the overwhelming amount of chlorine. It pretty much smelled like a YMCA. U y7h

"Yup." I was relieved to hear the happy ding of the elevator and head to my apartment. It was gorgeous – so sunny and airy, unlike our old house in Lonnytown with moss growing up the side of it and the small windows all dusty because mom never cleaned. It was a stuffy place of tears and dead dreams. This new apartment of mine was a fresh start.

The smell of chlorine followed us still as we walked down the hall where sun shined through the window and bathed a vase of magnolias. The smell of the flowers shyly took over the pungent scent of chlorine.

I slid in the cardkey and the door gave a nice click. It swung shut very quickly behind us but was quiet when it closed, not loud like I expected. The first thing I saw when I walked in was the terrace. It was small but nice enough to relax out there and stare out at the river and enjoy a glass of wine in one of dad's fancy glasses. The wood floor was glossy form a recent mop. The two windows in the living room were huge and went from the floor straight up to the ceiling.

"Gotta get you some curtains," Dad noted. He was nervous about someone spying on me, it seemed. I don't think he ever thought I'd date. I never had a boyfriend, true, but I intended on dating finally. There weren't many boys in Lonnytown that caught my eye – plus I was busy working and going to school. _And I was shy._

But this was Belfast. This was college life. I wanted to know what sex was about. Although it did terrify me – the mere thought of approaching a boy.

Dad moseyed around a bit, checking out the bedroom, the bathroom and the foyer. The living room was the looker, the other rooms a bit less graceful. My bedroom was your standard bedroom and was pretty small, with a small window and a bed just big and comfy enough for one person. The bathroom was across from the bedroom and had a nice-sized tub.

"Okay," Dad finally said, accepting the fact that this was my new home. He reached out and hugged me. "You call if you need anything."

"Let me show you the terrace," I said, at least. We walked out and felt the warm breeze and could smell the fishy smell of the grey river. It looked pretty small, like I could swim across it to Crown Bar. I thought Dad would stay longer, but I think he was sad. Plus he had to get back to the pub.

"Okay, call me anytime," he said again as he walked to the door. Your mother and I will be back up next weekend with the rest of your stuff – and some curtains."

"Okay, Dad," I grumbled. I could only imagine what kind of curtains mom would pick out for me. She had no sense of decorating.

He hugged me one more time, this time for so long that I smelled slightly of his cologne when it was over.

"I can get ya some groceries if you need, before I got back to Lonny."

I thought it over. There was a small café downstairs and all I had to do was take the bus if I wanted to get somewhere, or take the quick walk across the bridge. I liked to be independent – I was going to have to get used to it.

"I'm fine dad."

"Okay." He forced a smile but I knew he'd cry once he was in the car. "Next Saturday." He gave his final wave goodbye and was gone.

3

The silence set in once he left. I sat on the little sofa, which I'd moved from the living room to the terrace. I had no furniture to make rooms certain rooms yet anyway. Next weekend, I would have my TV, my books and my favorite fancy pillows Mom always said were a huge pointless waste of money. She didn't understand the comfort in owning nice things. Maybe she was happy with her mothball-reeking bulky pillows but not me.

I won a thousand dollars for a writing contest recently and spent some of it on Pisces and Paris needlepoint throw pillows from Jonathon Adler at a cost of a hundred dollars each. I also splurged on some Muse Noir ceramic candles as well, costing me another couple of hundred dollars. This caused a huge fight between me and Mom.

"You could have saved it for school!" she shouted.

"It is for school! They will be in my apartment when I go there!" I screamed back.

"You can't just spoil yourself like this in life without thinking."

"Well you only live once – I won't be able to shop online for nice things when I'm dead!"

Dad had laughed at that, because he had a sense of humor and he didn't take things as seriously as mom – mainly because most of the time he was too drunk to care.

"We'll see who's laughing when you're living alone and you can't eat because you just spent sixty dollars on a candle!"

Maybe she never got a whiff of the pinch of leather and vanilla bean that gently crossed my path at night when I was settling down for bed – how it relaxed me. How sexy it was. Until my life got sexy for other reasons, I really needed that candle.

I curled my little legs up under my body and relaxed on my sofa for two. I was petite but curvy, and I felt quite snug on this soft couch. I moved two weeks early in mid-August to allow myself some time to get familiar with Belfast before I had to take the nosedive into books, getting to know the campus and the faculty and all that.

I was a virgin. The only things to ever have touched my naked body were my fingers and the soft breeze at night when I slept with my window open. I liked the feeling I had of purity. I felt special, strong and untainted. But the more I saw boys and girls having sex in movies, the more I wanted to know what it was like. What drew her sigh? What made her claw at his back while his muscles flexed? What made them moan and scream like they were dying and coming alive all at once?

I stared out at the river, which was somewhat grey and murky as night approached, and dreamt of what it was like to let a boy touch me. And I him. I pictured a slender boy with a great torso, a little hair traveling down there. I imagined how soft the flesh of his nipples felt, how he smelled and how warm his skin was. How he sighed. How his hair was the right kind of messy. How our fingers would drizzle over each other's bodies with maniacal curiosity and how, when lust completely took over, our bodies crashed together as if only a hard kiss could save us from dying. And then I would be able to feel him, his cock stirring up and wanting inside of me. That was what I was afraid of most. It would change me forever – it would only be another exquisite rush for him.

I eventually turned in and tried not to focus too much on the quiet of my apartment. Usually I could hear the sound of the TV when Mom stayed up late gorging junk food and watching late night television while Dad passed out on the porch. Not here. It felt like I'd just unplugged my old life and was waiting for a new surge of energy to take over – new noise and devilish energy. At last I heard something, a faint sobbing on the other side of the wall. I think a girl was crying.

4

I woke up early the next day. I was too excited to explore Greggs Quay to sleep. I pulled on a comfortable pair of jeans and a white and red shirt with the number 94 on it – the year I was born, and went out into the hallway. _Pleasant_. The silence that gave me the creeps last night just seemed pleasant this morning. Fresh morning light striped the carpet and fresh magnolias had just been placed in a vase by the elevator and smelled so good. It also lessened the burn of the chlorine smell.

I watched as the door next to mine opened and a beautiful girl with long black hair walked out. She was dressed so nice in a very snug black skirt, stockings, black heels and a very nice red shirt that gave the outfit a burst of color that matched the red fingernail polish and lipstick she had on. Was this the girl I heard crying last night? She certainly wasn't crying now. Her face had a nice dewy glow and her hair was shiny and gorgeous.

She turned and was a little unnerved to see me just standing there gawking at her.

"Hi, sorry," I immediately said. "I'm new here. Moved here for school."

Then she just smiled and lifted her designer shades to show her big doe eyes.

"Well hi, I'm Karen." She reached her hand out to shake mine as I walked over to her. She smelled really nice – sort of like that fancy candle of mine. She picked up her red leather bag after she locked the door. "How do you like Greggs Quay?" she asked.

"I like it!" Ugh. I sounded too excited and desperate for a friend.

"It's nice in the summer," she said, so collected. She didn't seem put off by my overzealousness. "Check out the pool and the café downstairs," she suggested then offered me a smile that seemed only for me and softened her voice. "Don't let the grumpy barista scare you off."

"Okay. Thank you, Karen."

"You never told me your name," she said, still smiling.

"Lindsay Beckenham."

"Nice. Okay Lindsay." She turned to me and took a deep breath like she was about to do or say something out of line. "I have to go – otherwise I'd show you around myself. I have an appointment with my bereavement counselor." She fixed her oversized designer shades over her eyes.

"Oh – I'm sorry."

"Sorry? Why?" She lifted them again. Her eyes seemed bigger and chocolaty-er now.

"Because you're…sad? Did something happen? You said bereavement counselor."

"Oh right." She gave a strange smile. "Yes – anyway, I have to go." The word "go" was thickly wrapped in her Irish accent as she rushed off and something shiny and metal fell from her bag. I studied it with a closer eye.

"Hey?" I called out. She turned around and her hair jumped up from her shoulder and flew around like in a shampoo commercial.

"You, um, dropped your handcuffs." I picked them up. They were a lot heavier than they looked. These weren't the flimsy kind you found in a toy store.

She smiled – maybe she was slightly embarrassed but honestly, she seemed amused.

"Oh goodness," she laughed and took the heavy metal cuffs from me before disappearing inside the elevator.

_Handcuffs? For a bereavement appointment? _

5

The café and gourmet chocolate shop downstairs joined forces to make the most amazing iced mocha I'd ever had in my life. The sound of beans sliding into a barrel and pictures of James Dean surrounded me. I loved this place.

I sat next to the glass sliding doors that opened to the

picnic area. The sun made an appearance, making the grey river look golden in one certain spot. I kind of wished the pool was outside but I knew in the winter I'd appreciate an indoor pool.

I looked up as two boys entered the café. They were dressed like typical young guys with baseball cap, jeans, t-shirt and sneakers. They stood next to each other but not too close. One had blonde hair that went up in the front like it was permanently captured by a strong gust of wind. The other boy had his black curls under his baseball cap and chewed on his lip ring. While the dark-haired one ordered, the blonde looked around at people in the café. His eyes stopped on me for a second and I grew nervous. I watched him swing his elbow out to nudge his buddy and nodded in my direction. I didn't want any attention right now – I just wanted to enjoy my coffee in peace so I slipped outside to the picnic tables to try and get some sun.

I saw Karen walking over the bridge two hours later. I kept wondering why she took handcuffs with her to her appointment. I watched as she drew near me and tried not to let my social anxiety take over.

She waved at me. "Going for a swim," she said. "Care to join?"

"Yes." I jumped up from the picnic table and went in to change. We met in the hallway fifteen minutes later. Karen had the most gorgeous white swimsuit. The contrast of it and her luscious black hair was so beautiful. She had black stilettos on. I felt like such a trampy H&amp;M mannequin next to her.

"I need new clothes," I sighed.

"You know," she giggled, "I hear you can buy them at these things called shops."

"Ha ha," I said. I stared at her curves, catching myself by surprise. I usually didn't look at girls this way. We were both very curvy, but she was taller than me.

We walked towards the pool and the air was moist with chlorine and the carpet was wet. I hoped no one else was in the pool, and to my nice surprise it was completely empty.

"You excited about school?" Karen asked as she put her thick hair up in a bun and slowly entered the pool.

"Yes," I said, dying to talk to someone about my life besides my parents. I followed her to the middle of the pool, right before it became too deep. I never learned how to swim. The opportunity just wasn't there. Once my mom got depressed, dad took me out of the house and put me to work at the pub so I didn't have to be around her.

"Where are you going?" she sounded so curious, which made me happy.

"Belfast Metropolitan." I said it with pride – maybe it wasn't the most prestigious school ever, but I was happy with myself for making this step.

"What are you studying?" she asked, moving away from the pool's wall a little. The water was the perfect cool temperature on my skin after sunbathing. God, I could definitely get used to this.

"Writing," I proudly said. "Journalism."

"Me too!" she pointed to herself and we were instantly mad for each other. We had so much in common, it seemed.

"Oh my god – really?" I was thrilled, and I followed her to the other side of the pool.

"I dream about the day I write a bestseller," I couldn't help but admit. "And people come to my book signing – and it's raining – and the rain can't stop their loyalty. Bad weather let's me know how much I matter."

Karen studied me for a long time until I got nervous.

"You are a writer, aren't you?" she made a fuss over me. My folks never did that. "That was brilliant, what you said."

Oh shucks. "Thanks. I really love your swimsuit. Where do you shop?"

"Luis and Clark." Damn. This was a rich girl. She had to be. You couldn't buy anything there for under five-hundred dollars. Not even a hairclip!

"I know, spoiled." She read my mind, moving her arms around in the pretty blue water. "But money's not everything. My parents think it is. They missed some steps when it came to raising me, you know, leaving everyday for work. My mom has these…" she paused to clip her nose. "Cocktail meetings with her girlfriends, it's so trashy. They like take up most of her day and she comes home drunk, yells at the dogs, flirts with the pool boy, yadayada, and they just give me money. Money has been my family. But I mean – nobody's perfect, no one's family is solid gold and butterflies. People handle things differently is all…some worse than others."

I didn't know what to say.

"Sorry! That was a lot! My mind is racing – it usually is after I see Paul." She started swimming. _Paul_.

"Your bereavement counselor?" I guessed.

"Yes," she confirmed. She paused. I thought maybe she would give away some information about why she had a bereavement counselor – one she needed handcuffs for. Or maybe those were for something else.

But she went on about her parents. "I'm not going to pretend I don't love being filthy rich. What about you? Rich or poor? I just want to know – I would never judge."

"Well, I was poor but then I started winning writing contests."

"That's great!" I loved her enthusiasm. I imagined her voice traveling through all of Greggs Quay like the smell of chlorine. I was about to say something when two guys came in with that restless kind of guy-energy. I didn't want them here; they seemed to ruffle everything up. I recognized them as the boys in the café earlier.

"Oh great, it's Blink 182," Karen quipped of the boys early-2000s look. It was a perfect comparison and I laughed into my hand. I loved Karen. I heard her cell phone ring – she had a Fifth Harmony ringtone for their new hit song _Boss_. She sang along quietly, putting lyrics back to the jumpy, slightly irritating ringtone.

"Every day is payday – swipe my card and then I do the nae nae," she cutely rapped as she checked her phone. I would sound absolutely silly if I sung such a song but she sounded cute. She looked at her phone and laughed at whoever just called.

"Boys need us," she said, pushing her feet against the wall and swimming on her back over to me. I didn't know if that was part of the song or if it was related to the phone call. "The funny part is they pretend not to." She glared at the punkish boys looking at us as they claimed two plastic chairs, placing their beers on it and then a boom box.

I really wanted to ask Karen about those handcuffs, but I kept the words on the tip of my tongue.

Meanwhile, she seemed to want to share a secret with me. She bent her index finger for me to follow her to the deep end.

"I can't swim," I let her know.

"I won't let you drown," she said, trying to keep her amusement of my fear to a minimum. She cleared the smile from her face because she didn't want to hurt my feelings. "I promise, love bug." Then she swam over to me, her legs moving like frog legs under the water. "I need to tell you a secret," she said.

I thought it was about the cuffs so I eagerly followed her to the deep end, away from those boys, and grabbed hold of the wall to keep me from going under.

"Those boys," she said, moving her eyes to their general direction."

"Yeah…?" I waited.

"They came to my room last night, like at two in the morning and knocked. They're weird. Just giving you a heads up."

I was not surprised to hear this. They gave me the creeps in the café. I glanced over my shoulder to find them staring at us like the twins from _The Shining_.

Maybe I should let my parents buy me curtains for my windows after all, I gathered.

6

Since our quiet swim was ruined by the boys and their annoying Irish rap band blasting from the boom box, Karen and I walked over to the bridge to Crown Bar for a drink. I was terribly excited to check the place out. I suddenly felt lost in an adult fairytale; doing all the things I wanted.

Crown Bar lived up to both its reputation and my fantasy of what it was like. Gorgeous huge gray-blue leather booths and long shiny wooden tables furnished the place. There was also an ale library with over fifty delicious imported ales. They played great rock music like Kings of Leon.

"This is so cool," I rejoiced in having a new friend and being out of Greggs Quay for a while. "On the one hand I was happy to move and start anew but I was also afraid because I didn't know anyone."

"Well," Karen smiled. "Now you know me."

We made ourselves comfy in one of the amazingly sexy booths. The sun pressed against the glass-stained windows and a bartender with grey hair and a grey beard kept a caring eye on us as we chatted.

"Have you lived in Belfast your whole life?" I asked Karen as I took another sip of my beer. At some point I hoped I could direct the conversation to those handcuffs.

She got quiet for a minute, as if I'd poked a bruise on her body and she was getting over the pain.

"Well, I used to visit my grandmother…in Portstewart," she eyed me to see if the place rang a bell. I'd only heard of it. "But that's as far as I got."

"You still go?" I asked. I'd never been to Portstewart but I heard it was a nice, family-oriented little town with that Sunday morning kind of quiet all the time.

"She passed," Karen said. "My granny – Beth." It was clear by the way she spoke that she was still dealing with it. Her voice was tight and she fought back tears. "It's okay," she said, trying to save me from having to give a sympathetic "I'm sorry" to a new friend. "That's why I started seeing my bereavement counselor, Paul." When she said his name, it was like the sky cleared of rainclouds. The misery faded from her voice. Obviously he was doing her some good.

"Oh, well that's good…I hope it's helping."

"Oh it is." Her eyes lit up in a way I didn't know brown eyes could. It was almost like she'd turned into some supernatural creature for a minute.

"Well that's good." I really wanted to ask her.

_Just ask. _I took a nice big gulp of beer first, trying to get a buzz going. Since I practically grew up in a pub and started drinking at a drastically early age, my alcohol tolerance was pretty high.

"Okay…" I tried to chew my smile away as I started to ask her. I was so nervous.

"Why the handcuffs?" she did it for me. I was both relieved and thrilled. "Well," she moved around in her seat as I excitedly sipped my Windmill Ale and waited for the scoop. "We all have our thing – the thing that gets us off."

She stared at my eyes, waiting for something to happen – for me to laugh understandably.

"No?" she waited. _Did I not have a thing?_ I didn't know enough about my sexuality to know what I liked.

"I don't know…you like to be handcuffed? Does he…?"

"Oh I can't tell you – I can't." She laughed. She adored her secrets – they made her eyes sparkle. She covered her mouth with her hand. She was a tease. Her teeth were perfectly white and her nose scrunched up as she continued to giggle.

_Please tell me – I want to know something about sex._

Our server delivered our beers. Every beer here had won some sort of award, and very deservingly so. I sipped the nice crisp ale and watched as Karen was still trying to hold back her snorts.

"What is so funny?" I asked, because a minute ago we were talking about her dead grandmother. I knew all writers were a bit off, but this was crazy.

"I came here with him once," she confessed.

"Your bereavement counselor?!" I gasped.

"Yes – Mr. Paul Spector." She said his name with a ton of respect. "Before you judge me – he's really hot."

I didn't know why, but I got distracted by her glossy black nail polish when her hand wrapped around her new beer. I wanted black nail polish.

No, I wanted a black swimsuit.

"What does he look like?" I inquired, bringing my eyes up from her perfect manicure to her big brown eyes.

"Oh honey, like no other man on earth. God was paying attention when he made him! He got lazy with everyone else."

The server walked away like he couldn't deal with us and our bantering.

"Murderous," Karen went on, her eyes fiery and her smile bright. "His looks are murderous. I will never forget the day I first walked in…to his office. I looked at him and thought I was hallucinating! I mean…" We both giggled. "Aren't, like, counselors and people like that supposed to be old and grey and fat? Like dentists?! With chubby fingers that smell like toothpicks? He is amazing – he smells like…rain and leather. Oh god."

"What?" we both cackled loudly, so loud in fact that the bartender glanced over at us from the bar which was way on the other side of the bar. We were the only people in the bar at this hour. My life finally felt loud and colorful.

"I'm serious – oh my god – his eyes – his eyes are like grayish blue or…sometimes they look entirely blue. He will stare at me and not blink," she informed. "Like he wants to make me uncomfortable. His practiced stare, I mean, it gets me wet. It certainly made me forget about losing Beth for a minute!" She calmed down somewhat. "They just seem like…stained glass…" she looked at the window next to us. "Those eyes of his. I can't see what's on the other side. It's like he gives me this look sometimes…I don't know – when I talk to him it's like no one else exists – no one else has problems. Just me, and he's going to make it better."

I knew then I had to have a tragedy occur so I could see him myself.

"Wow. A handsome man there to cry on his shoulder," I said. "That's basically what you have." I was so jealous. But she still didn't answer my question…

"Okay, I let him handcuff me once." There it was. There it was! She'd finally said it.

"Handcuff you?" I felt my cheeks blaze up. I was _such_ a virgin. I certainly didn't know what it was like to have metal rings around my wrists to keep me nice and still.

"Yes. I came in one day wearing an extra tight skirt and nice snug cashmere little sweater…thing. I caught his wandering eye, oh yes I did. He has a thing for pantyhose – or a hatred maybe. He hates that they hide the flesh, and I said give it up Paul, I know what you want, I see your cock there, trying to pop out of your nice trousers!"

_Oh my god – she said cock. _

"So," she shrugged after a minute passed. "I let him, you know, handcuff me. He took my arms and restrained them behind the big old-man-wants-to-read-his-paper chair. It hurt. I mean, he handcuffed them behind the chair, forcing them to join. This pain started gathering in my shoulders and traveled down the length of my arms. And he just watched me sitting like that – as the pain slowly traveled through my body, taking me over. I could tell the more I suffered, the harder he got. His eyes went completely grey. He kept me like that for an hour and a half."

"An hour and a half? Handcuffed to a chair?" I couldn't imagine sitting that long comfortably, let along…

"You're more curious than Christopher Columbus the day he discovered America!" she boasted.

"I know," I said, sort of embarrassed. I had to be the only nineteen year-old virgin around.

"Yes, with just him watching me. God, it was the hottest thing – I would never normally think something like that could drive me crazy. He didn't touch me. He simply sat behind his desk and just watched me. His eyes would study mine and then he'd look at my breasts as my breathing started to get heavy with panic."

I sipped my beer and she went on, talking about his beard and how scratchy she bet it was; his deep voice, his perfect six-foot stature. His perfect body.

"He jogs a lot – like every night. He jogs at night. I see him sometimes and he'll give me this tight smile, and his eyes seem completely grey at night – god I sound so stupid!" Her cute accent rocked the pub again. "Anyway," she quickly recovered and went right back to talking about Paul Spector. "When he jogs, he always has just a little sweat right here," she touched a spot between her beautiful breasts. "And I just think about that sweat for the rest of the night, slowly dripping down his body, collecting around the waistband of his sexy jogging pants. I think about the sweat _down there_…too." She covered her face immediately after saying that. I blushed.

"Ball sweat," I said. We both giggled.

"So…" I had so many questions. I didn't know where to begin. "Did he do anything…after he handcuffed you to his chair?"

She smirked. "I think he did something after, when he was alone. It's the way he looked at me, just watched like he was trying to decide what to do to me, that has me furiously fingering myself every night."

I did not know what to say or do with that information, so I just chugged my beer and eyed the bartender for another.

7

"You judge me now?" Karen worried as we promised ourselves this would be our last round. We should get home – there was more to life than drinking and obsessing over a handsome bereavement counselor who was into some kink.

I guessed so, anyway.

"You're going to go home tonight and call your friends back in Lonnytown and tell them about the loon you know who wants to bang her bereavement counselor," Karen assumed.

"No," I almost said, I don't have any friends besides you, but I quickly slammed on the brakes with that one. I didn't want her to think of me as some weirdo loner. "I don't judge people."

"Lindsay," she said my name weird, suspicious. "Are you a virgin?"

_God, was it that obvious? It was like I had the word tattooed on my forehead._

"Yes."

She immediately laughed, but for some reason I wasn't offended.

"I'm sorry – I feel like I'm sitting here with an angel! Like I'm having a drink in heaven. A virgin?! How did you get this far in life, first off – I mean you're such a pretty thing – and second – kudos to you!"

She glanced down at my lap then and added, "Twenty-four caret pussy. I am jealous of you."

Then insanity of the fact that we were both envious of each other took over for a minute, turning the leather booth very quiet.

"I don't blame you," she said a minute later, calmer now. "I just get too horny to refuse even the slimiest of boys. I mean there's Paul Spector but he's married with kids," she shrugged. "He hasn't let himself go though like most married men do – oh, not at all. I mean I know if he were going to have an affair, it would be with me." A smooth Cheshire grin took over her pretty face.

"I just see…like those boys at the pool, you know? I can't…picture letting them…in me," I cringed.

"Oh I know!" her laughter exploded across the bar again.

"I wonder what my grandmother would say," she suddenly said.

"About what?"

"Paul." She bit her lip and looked at me. "My grandmother was not your typical grandmother – she was feisty. She would say oh honey, keep going to him, once you get over me – tell him your cat died so you can still see him!"

Karen was so much fun, her laughter cheered me up. So did this place. I felt like I could handle Belfast on my own now.

"The vagina is so precious," she suddenly said, which drew an abrupt chuckle from my lips and I embarrassingly sprayed her face with spit. She didn't seem to mind, wiped it off and kept going. "Seriously, you should be proud of your…unflawed flower. And your freckles."

I guess so. I did have freckles – especially after sunbathing. And big green eyes and dark hair. Most people assumed I was five years younger than I was. _Because you look like a virgin too. _

I actually was really proud of my chasteness. I liked curling up in bed, bringing my knees to my supple breasts and feeling my purity. I liked falling asleep and waking up unharmed.

"But aren't you curious?" Karen had to ask.

"Very," I said, moving a bit in the booth from side to side like I was trying to draw friction from my pants. "My dad is very overprotective and my mom is just a depressing sack that sits on the couch all day and tells me how bad men are."

"Men are bad," Karen quickly and fiery responded. "But we need them – and some are bad for good reasons."

"I moved here for space – breathing room. I have to live right?"

Karen eagerly nodded. "And write." She got it – she got me. "And dear, you can't write without experience."

"I have to explore – I have to…"

"Fuck!" Karen finished my sentence. We both laughed again. Then her hand with her nice black polished nails crawled across the table and landed on mine. "I'll protect you – I'll meet any boy you decide you want to date. I'll be your big sister – I'll guard that twenty-four caret pussy, oh yes I will!" She sounded like she was taking an oath. She swung her arm upward in a drunken pirate motion and I laughed harder.

"How many boyfriends have you been with?" I blurted without thinking maybe it was too much of a personal question.

"I wouldn't call them boyfriends," Karen immediately responded, fine with discussing it. "I'd call them cute mistakes!" she laughed loudly. "I have not…been with anyone in a while. I got depressed after my grandmother, and then school has kept me busy. You know…" she started to say something and then she stopped. Then she said in a very serious tone, "Now I don't want anyone but Paul."

8

"Tell me a story about youuuu!" Karen begged. We were back at Greggs Quay now, in my bed, and I could see the gothic GQ letters from my bedroom window against the grey river. I was starting to really like this place despite the fact it apparently had a couple of creepy stalkers as residents. Those two boys seemed to be everywhere we were too, just suddenly appearing like ghosts. They were on the elevator when we returned and took it.

"Me?" I thought my life had been pretty boring. But if she wanted to hear about it…I turned on my side so I was facing her. We were in my bed. Maybe it seemed a little weird, but I felt fine about it. I really felt happy and alive around Karen. My eyes fell to her breasts and hers fell to mine. We were both Double-D's, we had that in common too – having to put up with all the creepy stares we collected from dirty men.

"Me?" I thought I was quite boring. "I have worked in my dad's pub since I was sixteen."

"Sixteen?" she couldn't get over it. "Wow. You start drinking then too?"

"Yes."

"Really?" she sounded a little upset.

"My dad is an alcoholic – he thinks nothing of it if I drink. His motto is "drinking is where life leads." I was a pretty lonely girl. Kind of shy, and…I'd get hit on at my dad's pub when I was sixteen – it made me afraid of men."

"Men can be so grimy," Karen said, looking right in my eyes. "You have eyes the color of a grasshopper!" she sweetly observed. That made me feel better. Then she put her hand on my face and I knew we were about to kiss. "Sweet girl." I shut my eyes and felt her soft lips against mine. We moved so our bodies were touching, our breasts pressed together in giant soft mounds of flesh. Then we both started giggling.

"You don't kiss much either, do you?" she said. I wasn't insulted because everything Karen said sounded so funny and loving.

"Oh no! I'm a bad kisser?" I said, opening my eyes to look at hers.

"You're just…inexperienced in so many ways – it's like you're waiting for me to feed you something…that's how you kiss."

_Oh my god, how terrible._ She went back to her hysterical laughter.

"I'm sorry." Now I was a little hurt. I couldn't take being laughed at. I got up, heading towards the terrace, and she tried to stop me.

"Baby come back – I'm sorry," she said, but she was still laughing.

She followed me out to the terrace. Her silence expressed how sorry she was. Karen had that thing about her – she was so full of energy and easy to read. She sat on the sofa. Now the night was lit up with all the lampposts along the river so we could see some of the grey water, but it got swallowed up into darkness over on the other side.

"The river looks like his eyes," Karen said.

"Paul?" I guessed, since he was the only man she ever talked about.

"Yes." She folded her legs so she was sitting Indian style on m sofa. Her toenails were painted black too.

"Would you like a glass of wine?" I offered. Might as well put those freaking glasses to good use.

"I laughed at you – I don't deserve it," she said, apologetic.

"It's fine, I'm a bit funny." I walked into the kitchen. I liked to think of myself as a forgiving person. My mom got easily offended and wrote so many people off for good. It was uncanny. Then she complained of being lonely.

"I'm honestly jealous of you," Karen said when I returned with a bottle of full-bodied red wine named Holly's Garden and two clean, beautiful wine glasses. "I have given it to too many assholes. There's nothing worse than unappreciated pussy. Listen – oh my god – so you must have some guy in mind, right?"

"That's the thing – I don't," I said, pouring the deep red wine into the glasses. I handed her one and she smiled, pushing the conversation aside to show how grateful she was.

"Thanks love," she said.

"I have no…ideal fantasy guy," I told her. "I know every other woman does but I don't."

I saw the question in her eyes and felt its weight on her tongue. I knew what she was about to ask. My hair was shorter than hers and I'd been ogling her tits practically all day.

"Do you like girls?" she boldly inquired.

"I like you," I admitted. I wasn't ready for another kiss – I was afraid she'd laugh at me again, so instead I leaned forward and rested my head on her shoulder.

I looked at her black fingernail polish again and, for whatever reason, decided I wanted a black swimsuit.

We woke up the next morning on my sofa, our bodies curled up in opposite directions so our soft feet barely touched. We were awoken by the sound of a boat tugging its horn and then Karen's ridiculous Fifth Harmony ringtone.

She moved around to retrieve her phone and I turned over, not yet ready to get going. My lazy summer days were dwindling and I wanted to make the most of them. We'd slept on the terrace together but nothing happened. I was starting to think nothing would ever happen to my body. It would remain untouched, pale and flawless, eventually a rose with dirt over it in the graveyard.

_Stop being so dramatic, Lindsay. _

"Let's go shopping," Karen suggested.

"Oh my god – yes, I want a black swimsuit."

"We have to make it quick though, I have an appointment today with Paul."

I was a bit jealous – I wanted to see if he was as devilishly handsome as she made him sound. _Murderous._

"It's so nice being able to spend money without my mom hounding me – giving me a lecture about how money should strictly be set aside for necessities only."

"What does your mom do?"

"Nothing," I said, point blank. It sounded cold but it was true.

"Nothing?" Karen frowned.

"Right. She used to play piano but she just stopped – one day she just stopped doing everything. She's like a…sad scene from a movie put on pause forever."

Karen collected her things and slipped on her shoes. She didn't say anything for almost a minute.

"Can I use your bathroom to wash my face?" she eventually asked, right before a yawn took over.

"Of course."

I got dressed while she was in my bathroom, excited to explore more of Belfast.

9

We headed over the bridge to the cluster of shops and bars. I shut off my mom's voice going off in my head about spending money on unnecessary things. I needed unnecessary things in my life now – unnecessary nights out with Karen drinking and dancing, unnecessary kissing so I could learn how to do it!

"This is it!" Karen pointed to the gorgeous Luis and Clark department store – another place I'd always wanted to explore but never had. The exterior was black and white and mannequins all dunned black and white clothes and accessories to match. The store's white marble floor was so clean and shiny it hurt to look at it.

"I thought you needed an appointment to shop here?" I said.

"Ya do," Karen smiled as we walked on in. They overdid it with the air conditioning and I even wished I had a little sweater with me. It smelled just a little like some kind of cinnamon-scented incense. "We have one – I made it yesterday," Karen let me know.

It was like Karen knew me before she met me! We held hands as we were buzzed into the high fashioned world of Luis and Clark. The girls on the popular reality show _Single in Belfast_ only wore clothes from here. The shop played the same sort of pop tunes like Karen had as her ringtone.

"Hello," a perfectly structured boy greeted us. He obviously worked here. He was dressed just like one of the male mannequins in perfect-fitting black trousers, a snug white cashmere sweater and shiny black shoes. He had black hair, big brown eyes and a rather long Trent Reznor type of nose.

"Hi," Karen waved right before making a beeline for the swimsuits. "Here we go!" she picked out the most gorgeous black swimsuit for me.

"That is a replica of a vintage 1960s swimsuit," the guy that greeted us when we entered said, sweeping across the floor like a vampire. He was incredibly handsome – so freakishly handsome that he almost crossed the line to ugly. "It would like great on both of you," he smirked.

"I think it would be a bit too small if we both squeezed into it," Karen laughed. The guy remained blithely unaffected by Karen's charm.

"Well I'm Alex," he said. "And I would love to send you ladies out of here happier than you've ever been on a shopping trip." He turned his freakish blue eyes on me. "I think you should try it on – trust me, it was made for you," Alex told me. He was very convincing.

"I guess – I mean it doesn't cost anything to try it on," I decided, glancing down at the 600-dollar price-tag. It was probably because the swimsuit was embedded with black diamond butterflies and bows on the chest. No one in the world needed such a fancy thing. But I did. I wanted it.

"Right this way," Alex said. He stopped at the bar and handed us a complimentary fuzzy beverage before whipping back the red velvet curtain and placing the swimsuit inside for me.

I went inside and sipped the fruity drink with a nice amount of alcohol. If this was what living on my own was like, I was sure I could handle it. I eyed the swimsuit. The more I looked at it, the more I knew I had to get it.

He was right. The black swimsuit hugged my gorgeous curves perfectly. I didn't want to take it off. I fingered the little bows and hearts made of black diamonds. They were all about the size of quarters and felt so substantial. I turned and looked at my bottom. This swimsuit couldn't have fit better. It made my round supple bottom look even perkier.

"Well, 14 Caret?" Karen asked, apparently that was my new nickname. At least she left off the word pussy. "Let's see!"

Karen waited as I started to walk out but got very shy.

"Oh come on – you're gorgeous!" Karen cheered. "_Let's seeeee_."

I stepped out and noticed Alex's eyes expand right away.

"Look at your skin! Like a porcelain doll," he fussed. "You are so pretty – do you model?"

I just laughed. It wasn't a bigheaded thing for me to think I was attractive, but he was really pouring it on.

"Seriously though," he insisted. "That was made for you – diamonds and all."

My bosom was practically popping out of the black,

bejeweled chest.

"It is gorgeous," I gasped.

"You're the gorgeous one, sweetie!" Alex said. I appreciated the compliment but there was no way I could spend this much money on a bathing suit. I ran my fingers over the hearts and butterflies. I didn't want to take it off, ever.

"Can you believe she's still a virgin?" Karen blurted.

"Karen!"

Alex, being the pro that he was, pretended not to hear that and went off to get me a pair of white stilettos to go with it. Everything here was black and white. It was as if I was going to walk the runway in this, not just go swimming at my apartment complex's indoor pool.

"So fancy!" Karen fussed. "Get it – you still have writing award money leftover?" she checked while bringing her phone out and started to text.

"Yes." But after this purchase, I wouldn't. "I'll be broke after this though."

"But you'll have a diamond swimsuit," Alex said. He was really good at his job.

"Your dad's coming up this weekend – he'll give you some money." Karen was rushing me, texting into her phone and walking towards the register.

"I don't know…" I never really knew – I was never sure about anything I did. I needed someone else to take control. Take the wheel. Figure out the way to go. Maybe it was Dad's fault. I felt like I even needed someone to tell which foot to put in front of the other when I walked!

"I have to see Paul soon – just get it."

"I can bring it back, right?" I looked at Alex.

"No honey, all purchases are final. If you want it the first time – you should want it forever."

_Well._

I looked at Karen, who was frowning and texting furiously into her phone.

"Okay – okay, I'll get it." I went back in to change, a materialistic high taking over as I walked back out in my regular clothes, about to go up to the register when a woman I didn't know approached me.

"Excuse me?" she called out in my direction. I turned and saw a woman with long blonde hair and blue eyes. She was much older than me and very sophisticated. She must have worked for the company – some fancy office job where she didn't have to deal with customers face-to-face. She was wearing black and white too.

"Yes?"

"You're Lindsay Beckenhman, aren't you?"

"Um, yes…?"

"We have to go," Karen called. Her impatient side was really on display today.

"Okay," I turned to place my swimsuit and shoes down to purchase and Alex started ringing me up. This was going to be about a thousand dollars. I. Was. Screwed. Well not literally, you'll never be literally…

"You wrote that short story – Secret Fire," the blonde woman said.

_Oh my god_. It was one thing to win money for writing but another to actually get recognized in public over it! I was ecstatic but reminded myself to be cool.

"Yes, that's me," I smiled.

"I loved it," she said in breathless admiration.

"Thank you." She wanted to shake my hand so I obliged but could feel the stern stare coming from Karen.

"Paul hates it when I'm late," she grouched. "And he's already trying to cancel!" Karen was suddenly completely irate. "I will die if he doesn't see me!"

Alex gave Karen the funniest look and I found it hard to contain my amusement.

"Um," I looked back at the blonde woman, who was holding a business card out to me.

"I work for The Belfast Fog – I don't know your current situation, but if you're looking for work we'd love to have someone of your talent."

I couldn't believe it! The Belfast Fog was a paper in Ireland that was a mix of new stories and fiction. It was every writer's dream to have that kind of exposure. I glanced over to make sure Karen was still there waiting for me. She was, but I wasn't sure for how long.

"Thank you so much," I took the card and the woman walked off. I didn't even get her name! I felt so rude.

10

I felt like I'd been knocked down. I'd never seen anyone so good looking, so dapper and yet something about him felt so rough around the edges – like a sharp knife inside a very pretty case.

I couldn't get over his eyes – they were perfectly round like marbles, and a pretty, smoldering mix of grey and blue. He wasn't shy when it came to eye contact either. He didn't show any kind of shyness that usually came with meeting someone for the first time. No pressing interest in them either. He was just calm – cool.

"Nice to meet you, Lindsay," Paul Spector said once Karen introduced me. He looked right into my eyes the whole time like he was trying to inhale the light from them. His voice was deep and hypnotic. I wasn't sure his age, definitely not over thirty. He smelled really good. His beard was thick – almost thicker than the nice head of dark brown hair on his head. His sweater was blue and not that impressive, but it didn't matter – he was still sexy despite the ocean-blue sweater and chocolate-brown trousers.

"Shopping?" he pointed to my bag as he sat down behind his desk. Wow. He was very observant – I'd set the Luis and Clark bag on the floor in front of his desk as soon as we entered and didn't think he saw it.

"Yes." I found it hard to swallow. At least I was finally attracted to someone. Of course it had to be a married man. His eyes seemed to turn a solid grey as he looked me over without blinking. It was as if I'd said something to him that took him by surprise but all I had said was yes, I went shopping.

Did he fancy me?

I glanced at Karen, who had the most wooden expression. She obviously wanted him attention now.

"What did you buy?" Paul asked me.

"A swimsuit. Black." I took it out, feeling the need to show him. I felt like he was going to tell me to show it to him anyway. He stared at it, particularly the bows on the breasts. Then he picked his eyes up to study mine. I thought he was going to say how nice it was but he looked at Karen instead.

"You're late," he scolded her.

"I'm so sorry – it's her fault." She pointed at me and his eyes seemed to go cold when he looked back at me. Then he looked at her again.

"Two girls can't be on time together?" he coldly commented, resting his finger against his right temple. "Can't help one another keep track of the time?"

Oh my god, he was really heated. So was my pussy. I dropped the swimsuit back in the bag, feeling stupid for ever taking it out in the first place. It was hot in here. I looked up at the air conditioner. It was roaring and dripping and trying.

I felt belittled but somehow I didn't mind. I moved around in the big leather chair. As we sat there, I moved my arms behind it, trying to imagine having my wrists cuffed like that. My hands didn't even meet. _How on earth…_

I looked at Paul and saw him staring at me, wondering what the hell I was doing. I awkwardly brought my hands out from behind me and rested them in my lap. That didn't feel right, so I put them on the armrests. I just couldn't get comfortable as long as he was looking at me like that. And he didn't stop. He stared at my hands like he might toss acid on them if I move them again.

"I'm sorry," I whispered slavishly. Why was I apologizing? Karen stared at me before clearing her throat.

"I'm sorry we are late, Mr. Spector," Karen reinstated. "Thank you for not cancelling."

He slowly brought his eyes over to her. He didn't seem like he was expected to talk – even though he was a bereavement counselor. I watched his chest rise as he took a deep breath.

"Yes," I try and join in. He's still looking at my hands. "You know what they say – retail therapy. Perhaps that replaced this therapy." The joke was a total flub. He hit me with a cold stare. Karen looked at me like I shouldn't have said that.

"Sorry," I said again, hating myself.

Paul was very poised. My eyes traveled down his body. It was hard to tell with that suit on, but he was very slender, like everything he wore fit his muscular body loosely.

"So," he finally turned his attention to Karen. "How have you been?"

"Okay I guess – school is keeping me busy." I could hear the immense relief in her voice now that he was finally paying her some attention. A strange silence followed and I wondered what they would be doing if I wasn't here.

"Everyday gets a little easier…" she said. He just looked at her with his perfect round eyes, his expression remained the same always.

"It will continue to get easier," he said. "Stay focused on what you want, Beth would want that." Karen's eyes warmed when he mentioned her grandmother by name.

"And I met her," Karen brought me into the conversation. "She just moved into Greggs Quay."

He eyed me again like I was his target of interest.

"Did you?" he asked me directly.

"Yes…" I almost called him sir. I wanted to. "For school. I had to get away from my mom," I said, finding it easy to talk to him. This was not the time or place – it was Karen's hour – but I just couldn't help it. "She just…she's so depressed – sometimes I wonder why she doesn't just kill herself."

Once I said that, I felt the quiet in the room intensify. I also felt like something in the universe shifted. I shouldn't have said that. To a bereavement counselor? Why did I just say that? I looked over at Karen as she shook her head in disbelief.

"I'm sorry," I said for the third time. I had never apologized so much in my life.

"It's okay," Paul said, but I knew it wasn't. I could tell by the way Paul was looking at me. I couldn't imagine being tied up by him and having him just stare me down – able to do anything he wanted to my body. And yet it was all I wanted to do.

I tried to breathe and swallow. There was a lump in my throat and chest. _God_.

"Anyway, she's nice, I swear," Karen let out a crude little laugh. I guess I didn't seem nice today. said of me. "We hung out in the pool…"

"I didn't know there was a pool there," he said, in the same tone he'd been using the whole time.

"There is," I managed to say. I was nervous and my mouth was dry. Those alcoholic beverages at the shop left me a bit dehydrated. "And tanning beds."

"Really?" he seemed very interested in that. He didn't need a tan – he looked like he just returned from a vacation. He looked so warm, so masculine. I wanted to feel his rough beard against my soft face…my soft thighs…

"Do you swim?" I asked, trying once again to join my hands behind the chair. Nope.

"He jogs," Karen said. "A lot." We both looked at him and I felt this amazing sexual tension in the room between all three of us.

"I swim sometimes," he noted and suddenly he flashed the cutest, boyish smile I'd ever seen. It slowly faded and he went back to his focused frown of concern. He crossed his arms over his chest when he looked at Karen and I could see his muscular arms take shape under the sleeves of his blue sweater. The clothes he wore did not suit him. They were a misrepresentation of the man he was. The dominant man. I could tell – I could feel his proud masculinity wafting off of his body.

"You should come by," I said, I couldn't believe I said it but I would never regret it. Karen looked like she was about to kick me. I just hit on her bereavement counselor. Paul meanwhile kept a tight smile on his face. He didn't even respond.

11

"You're a total psycho," Karen swiped the minute we left the office and headed to the elevator. She even pinched me on the arm.

"Owe!" I pulled away and checked to see if there was blood. I could see the anger sweltering in her eyes.

"Lindsay?" I heard Paul call my name from his office and, once I got over being giddy that he remembered it, I turned around to see he was holding my Luis and Clark shopping bag. "Forgot something."

"Oh my god." I quickly walked over to him, smiling like a crazy person and tripping on a bump in the rug and nearly falling right in front of him. He grabbed my arm with such a firm grip to stop me that it hurt. My dumb ability to cooperate with gravity was met by his solid frame, and that unyielding domineering glow in his eyes. He kept his eyes on me as I lingered there trying to find my balance.

"Careful," he said, a warning flashed in his eyes. He still had hold of my wrist. I couldn't move my arm at all when he held it that tight. I couldn't fall or walk away.

"Sorry." I was apologizing _yet again_, this time for tripping on his stupid rug? I shouldn't apologize for that but he made me feel like I should.

"It's alright," he said in that smooth, deep voice of his. He finally let go of my wrist. The skin was red where he'd grabbed it. He never took his eyes off of me as I picked up the shopping bag and collected myself. I took my bag and walked on to the elevator. I stepped in and looked up to find him still staring at us. It continued until the doors closed and we descended down to the lobby.

"I can't believe you invited him to go swimming with us," Karen scorned as we descended down to the lobby.

"You had a drink with him!" I shot back.

"That's different – it was a very casual…outing. Besides – if he were to date anyone, it would be me. But I really don't think he's going to go that far."

"Right, he just handcuffs you to a chair and watches you for two hours. He would never do anything crazy though!"

It was as if we suddenly hated each other, all because of a man. But he was murderously beautiful.

I tried to calm down, feel my feet firmly on the ground.

"He seemed so mad at us – just because we were late?"

"His mother committed suicide," Karen let me know.

_Oh Jesus! And I said mine should. _

"I'm so sorry, I didn't know."

"Well it's over now, just never go back there – I could see how much he disliked you." It sounded like Karen hoped he did.

I almost apologized again, but I refused. I had said the word sorry too many times today already.

Part 2

"A Good Mystery on a Saturday"

12

I wanted to cry after the embarrassing mishap with Mr. Spector. It was really silly and I knew that. I should be happy – I had a bathing suit with diamonds on it. I had a new apartment and a new life. I had a job offer with The Belfast Fog, and yet all I could think about was how he looked at me and how I hit on him and he said no. My wrist still stung from his grip hours later. I even thought about icing it.

I changed into my swimsuit as Karen waited for me in the kitchen. I hoped we could forget the incident with Paul and just have a fun night. The swimsuit felt smaller on me now than it did at the shop.

"You have to put on the heels," Karen said when I walked out barefoot.

"Oh come on," I pleaded. I'd feel awfully foolish walking around in such clothes. Maybe she wanted me to, I still felt like she was mad at me.

"You come on – come on and put on those heels," she pushed. A part of me wanted to – I did spend a ton on them so I might as well flaunt them about – but I also felt a bit silly walking around in such expensive duds. I walked into the kitchen as Karen discovered my gold bottle of Cognac.

"Daddy's?" Karen guessed, holding it up. I nodded. "Can we?"

"I was saving it for a special occasion but fuck it." There would never be a special occasion in my life.

Karen grabbed some glasses from the cupboard. "Not like we're going to drink it all tonight," she laughed.

The water was so warm and relaxing. I did a few laps around the pool and assumed Karen's continuous chuckling was due to the expensive tequila we were drinking.

"What is it?" I asked of her amusement, grabbing the wall and kicking my feet up behind me. The water felt so good. I looked over at the three tanning beds. I was so pale – the red rings Paul left around my wrist pointed that out drastically.

Karen tried to tame her grin as she reached for her towel. She picked it up to reveal a giant purple dildo underneath it.

"Oh my god!" I started to swim away, frightened. "You brought that HERE?!" I asked, once I was out in the middle of the pool away from it.

"Come back here! Just look at it." She waved it around. It was so thick and intrusive.

"Don't," I warned as she bit her bottom lip, looking like she was about to throw it at me.

"DON'T!" I cackled as the thing came flying through the air, nearly slapping me in the head. We both laughed.

"It floats," she pointed, laughing so hard she barely got the words out. "IT FLOATS!"

I watched the big rubber thing as it floated jollily in the water.

"Trust me, it's not as big as Paul," Karen gleefully informed.

I stared at the dildo. It had to be about ten inches.

"There's no way he's bigger than that."

She looked at me like I had a lot to learn.

"So you've had sex with him?" I couldn't even imagine that – having that man inside of me. Him just grabbing my wrist racked my mind enough.

"No…" Karen said. "He took it out though, as if to brag – the same way you took out your black swimsuit – and then he jerked off while I was handcuffed to the chair – ruined everything I had on that day."

I felt very aroused just then and looked at the dildo thoughtfully. But I didn't want a big rubber thing inside of me; I wanted a real warm blood-filled cock. Oh my god. The mere thought of it…

"You can't tell anyone this," Karen said, quite serious. "I don't want to ruin his career – his marriage. He'd be so angry with me if he knew I told anyone these things."

Her eyes landed on the dildo as she grabbed it and came after me.

"No!" I tried to swim but I still couldn't swim very well and she grabbed me by swinging her arm around my bosom and held the dildo in front of my face threateningly. Karen was starting to rub me the wrong way – literally.

"Don't!" I looked away. I didn't like the rubber smell.

"Pretend it's him!" she said, putting it against my lips.

"No!"

"Come on!" She got so forceful and I tried to get out of her hold but I minded the diamond charms on it.

"STOP!" I finally yelled and she backed off. I looked to make sure all the fancy black diamond-encrusted duds were still in place. I swear I'd die if anything happened to this swimsuit. It had to be the best thing I ever bought.

I was about done with this swim. I looked over at the tanning beds and thought I saw someone standing there, between them and gym.

"What?" Karen followed my suspicious gaze over to where it was shadowy in front of the gym. The gym was closed, and the darkness inside seemed to cast a shadow over the corner I was eyeing but I was sure I saw someone standing there.

"I swear I saw someone…"

Karen looked again. We both stared for an equal amount of time before shrugging.

"I guess not," I decided.

I placed my perfect sized-six feet against the pool's wall and pushed myself away from the wall and swam out to the middle of the pool.

"Oh crap!" I suddenly realized something when I thought of those creepy boys and how I still needed curtains on my windows. "What day is it?" I swam back over to Karen, who was pretty drunk now. I wanted to politely ask her to stop drinking all of my expensive cognac.

"Friday."

"Oh my god! My parents are coming tomorrow – I have to go." I walked up the steps to the dry Italian marble, dried off and hurried back to my apartment.

13

I had trouble sleeping that night. I couldn't stop thinking about the way Paul Spector grabbed me when I nearly fell. The power in his fingers. I couldn't stop thinking about that dildo Karen brought to the pool either. I really needed to have sex soon, but I also knew it would change everything.

There was one more week of August left. I truly needed to enjoy every minute. I woke up the next day and straightened up in preparation for my parents' visit. My parents arrived at noon, an hour after they said they would. Mom looked very skeptical of everything while my dad looked slightly irritated because he was sober. I looked right down at the box of my pillows and candles and seeing my awesome belongings cheered me up.

"Thank you!" Now I had everything I needed. I also had my favorite underwear from Victoria's Secret – they were an Easter color of purple and silk and soft. I put them in my laundry bag since they were dirty and took a few of the expensive pillows out and placed them on the sofa on the terrace, causing mom to fuss right away.

"Is that a good idea? What about the rain." Rain wasn't even in the forecast today.

"Rain on a Paris Pillow," I said. I thought it sounded kind of nice. "So what do you want to do for lunch? What are you in the mood for?"

Mom clutched kept touching her neck nervously and looked around my apartment with a discouraging expression.

"This place is pretty big," she said. Wasn't that a good thing? "Well let's go if we're going."

"Don't you want to see the place?" Dad asked her. "We just got here."

"What's there to see?" Mom griped.

"Nothing," I said. "Let's just go."

"We brought you some curtains," Dad said.

"Thanks Dad!" I was very thrilled about that.

We walked outside and the warm weather hugged us. I needed to tan today. The weather was perfect for it. I actually had my fancy black swimsuit on – I was hoping to get some sun today while we were out and about. And besides, as crazy as it was, I just wanted to wear it everywhere.

I was going to suggest Dan's Burgers for lunch because it had a cool patio and it was across from Crown Bar.

Before I could speak, mom grumbled, "A pool?" as we walked by the big windows surrounded the indoor swimming pool. "We don't have a pool at our house. Why do you need a pool?"

"It's nice," I said, a bit short. "It's just a nice bonus to my living situation." I was turned off by her negativity. "Dad, do you want to go to Crown Bar? You would love it – they have an ale library!"

"Sure," he said, roaring with laughter. At least Dad seemed up for a good time.

We took the bridge over to Dan's. By the time we got there, I was starving. I took my t-shirt off once we were seated on the upper desk. It was an amazing day and I sort of wished Karen was here to enjoy it with. Mom stared at my swimsuit.

"What is that?" she asked.

"It's a bathing suit."

Mom looked at Dad. "She's already thinking about the wrong things. She's been on her own for less than a week and look?"

I ignored her and decided to text Karen: _Hi! I'm at Dan's Burgers and will be going to Crown soon – I would love for you to meet my dad! _

I put my phone aside and tried to enjoy the rest of the day. Dad loved The Crown and chatted with the bartender, Mitch, for a while. Karen never texted me back and by six that evening, my parents had ejected themselves from my life once again and things felt quiet and weird.

14

I woke up with Paul on my mind. I decided I had to do something about this growing yearning for him. I couldn't forget how he looked at me in that office – those eyes. I had no reason to go to a bereavement counselor and I shouldn't want one, but I honestly did. Karen had not texted me back at all, which hurt my feelings a little.

I picked up the phone and dialed the first four digits of his number over and over, without completing the call. My heart jumped around nervously. I was getting sunburned on my terrace. _Do it, for god sake. Just do it._

"Paul Spector." He sounded a little annoyed when he answered the phone, or preoccupied.

I froze. I tried to swallow and breathe. Talking was a whole other effort. I could see his hard frown already taking place, and his perfectly round blue-grey eyes peeled to his wooden desk as he waited for me to speak.

"Who is this?" he asked, impatient.

"Lindsay."

Silence. He didn't remember me at all.

"Karen's friend…?"

"Black swimsuit," he said a few seconds later.

"Yes."

"Okay." He waited, not giving me any sort of clue that he liked me or was glad I called.

"My uncle died." The words just flew out of my mouth. I didn't have an uncle. I guess that meant I was lying but since I didn't have an uncle to begin with meant he didn't exist, so saying he didn't exist anymore wasn't a total lie…

"I'm sorry to hear that – are you okay?" He sounded very concerned, which was heartwarming. It was difficult to get anyone to care these days – Karen was always texting. My parents were in their own numbed-down little world. Here was someone who seemed to genuinely care.

"I need to see you." That wasn't a lie.

"Of course. I have some time tomorrow actually." He took a brief professional pause. "Would six work?"

"Six pm? That's not too late?"

"It's never too late, Lindsay. I tell all my clients if they ever need to talk I try to make myself available."

"How long is the appointment?" I asked.

"How long do you need me?"

God, I loved the way he said that.

"A while – we were very close…"

I think he knew I was lying. I couldn't really tell though.

"Sorry darlin'." The way he said darlin' just rolled so gracefully off his tongue. I wanted to talk to him forever. _That accent. That voice. _

"Um, did Karen come by today?" I asked, since I still hadn't heard from her.

"No actually," he said. I loved how he said "actually." I loved his voice. "She didn't show for her appointment." He paused. "I hope she's okay." He sounded indifferent though. I couldn't get over this thick Irish accent.

"I'll go by her apartment and call you back…"

"Don't do that." He was suddenly very stern. "Call me back, I mean. I'm busy. I'll see you tomorrow. Six." It was done for. I couldn't get over how short he was with me, how abruptly he hung up the phone.

In any case, I needed to check up on Karen. I went down the end of the hall and knocked on her door. There was no response – not one peep from the other side of the door.

"Hello?" I decided to call out. My voice sounded so loud here. I felt strange – that eerie feeling as if I were being watched. I knocked on her door one more time before giving up.

15

I woke up around six am, so anxious for my appointment with Paul that I couldn't sleep. I still thought meeting him on a Sunday evening at 6 pm was odd but I was too excited to care.

I gave up on sleep, even though I wanted to look well-rested for this evening's appointment. I put on a pot of coffee and took my phone out to the terrace. It was a lovely day – the few last days of summer warmed the air and the sky was turning into a gorgeous lapis shade of blue. I wasn't ready for school. I wasn't really ready for anything. At times, I didn't understand myself. Most people just went with the flow – got jobs, made friends, went on dates, but I preferred to be still and observe, which turned into me wondering why people did what they did because it always seemed to turn into some kind of pain, some sort of regret.

Everything began to remind me of him. The way the lapis-colored morning sky and the grey river were the shades of his eyes and sometimes, his suits. I couldn't think about anything else but him. I'd met him once but felt his strength when he gripped my wrist. I felt something else too – some kind stirring anger with the world. I had that anger too, but I wasn't sure why.

I snapped out of it, remembering the coffee I'd started and then my phone started buzzing with texts from Karen. Karen! She was alive, I thought humorously, laughing to myself.

_How are you doing? I'm so sorry – I think I have the flu,_ she texted.

_Oh no! I'm so sorry – u shud go back to bed_

_ Can't, feel to terrible to sleep _

Should I tell her my uncle died? Surely she would find out I was seeing her bereavement counselor.  
_I had a rather weird night,_ I started out.

_Oh?_ She texted back an inquiry.

_Karen_

I just texted her name so far. Should I tell her? Oh screw it.

_I made an appt with Paul – hope that's okay – I told him my uncle died_

_ Did he?_

_ No I don't have an uncle_

I felt terrible now. Looking down t my own lie as I admitted it.

Would she laugh? Would she stop texting me altogether? I couldn't tell. I could not tell over the phone. I couldn't see her face.

_You r a bad girl_, she finally responded. I smiled,

relieved. I knew she had a wicked sense of humor.

_I know,_ my face got hot as I texted her. _I just really _

_really really like him_

Two texts poured in, one right after the other:

_I know you like him_

_Is that okay? I mean I know you do 2_

_Its ok, just be careful_

_I know he's married_, I quickly texted as I went to fetch

some coffee. It was nice to look around my apartment and see more of my things. It also sort of made me a little sad because it meant this move was permanent. I was a grownup now. The world was bigger. I could do what I wanted. Danger was here.

I went back out to my terrace, where I still had the little sofa that should be in the living room. But looking out at the gorgeous river, the blue bridge and the giant Crown Bar marquee was better than watching TV. By the time I went back to my phone, Karen had sent three more texts.

_That's not what I meant – he can be…dangerous. My arms hurt for days after he handcuffed me._

I didn't know what to say. My heart pounced around in my chest.

_I can take it, I know I'm a virgin but I like to think I have a high tolerance for pain_

_ Really? What's the worst physical pain you have endured?_

_ Uhh…a skinned knee_

_ I bet you wanna skin some knees with him_

_ OMG! _I texted._ Maybe I should have practiced with that dildo!_

I waited but she wasn't texting back. I put the phone down and tried to enjoy my coffee but at this point, the last thing I needed was anything else making my heart jumpier.

_You don't know what yur in for_, Karen eventually texted.

_I'll be fine. I can handle it_, I promised.

Part 3

"People Mourn In Different Ways"

16

Getting dressed for a bereavement appointment shouldn't be

this difficult but I spent half the day picking out an outfit. Nervousness – anxiety – these emotions ate up most of my Sunday afternoon, that and searching for my favorite purple Victoria's Secret underwear. I intended on washing them but they apparently just vanished. I gave up and went with a boring pair of white cotton panties.

I chose a black skirt that hugged my nice figure, black tights, black boots and a cute white ruffled blouse that was almost too small for my chest.  
I walked over the blue bridge into the little town. I felt very good today. I even had a bit of a tan! I saw the impossible-to-miss Crown Bar and missed my evenings there with Karen.

I waited out in the lobby to be called to Paul's office, my skin crawling with anxiousness.

At last, a pretty secretary came out for me. "Mr. Spector will see you now," she said.

Today he wore a grey dress jacket and a blue-almost-black buttoned down shirt underneath it and a nice tie that bled all the colors together. The tie impossibly matched his eyes. I couldn't get over how gorgeous he was. He was dressed better today – why? For me? _Get over yourself_.

"Lindsay," he said my name and nodded at the big chair with the leather padding. The wood around the seat was a little cold. He got up to go put a book back on his shelf. His trousers were nice and black and fit him perfectly. I could make him out down there. Oh my god, Karen was right, he was very big.

"So…" he sat with his hands on his knees, casual but not slouching. His frown made him look doubtful of whatever I was about to say. He glanced down at my black heels and back up into my eyes. He looked taller today. His beard exactly the same – not too thick and not too thin. I wanted to run my hand across it. I wanted to slap him. I wanted to piss him off. I wanted to feel that bristly beard under my soft palm. God, he made me hot. His hair was just the right kind of messy. I imagined what his fingers would feel like on my soft flesh. Was he rough? Did he press or trail?

"How are you feeling right now?" he asked, his penetrating stare was intense and relentless while his tone was calm. He sounded like he had a plan for me no matter what I said. I guess that was good – his clients wanted to feel confident that there was a light at the end of the tunnel, all that stuff.

"Kind of just…in shock…" I think I was a terrible liar. But I _was_ in shock – I was in shock over the fact that I was here, sitting in the chair he liked to handcuff girls to.

"What was your uncle like?" he asked, still frowning in a concerned way. I could see what Karen meant – I felt like the only one in the world suffering. I had his full undivided attention. He was going to save me.

"Oh you know," I tossed my hand up in the air. I was so nervous. I was even a little sweaty. Was the air conditioner on? It sounded like it was.

"I actually don't," he shot me down, poker-faced. Now his frown expressed subtle anger, not so much concern for my well being.

I couldn't believe I didn't even think about what I was going to say about Fake Uncle. I never bothered coming up with a fictitious story to tell. Except that he had died.

"He was the…quiet…type…?" I said. That was true. Paul's stare didn't change. He was still and focused. "But he'd take me places – on Saturdays," I scrambled. "To do uncle things."

Paul's eyebrows sank above his nose to meet and make him look like some type of evil vigilante.

"You don't have…an uncle?" I struggled.

"We're not here to talk about my family, are we?" he said, somewhat icy. He moved his head so it tilted the other way, his eyes penetrated me.

Ugh. God. I was so moist.

His eyes were so perfectly round and he rarely blinked. He looked very well-rested but his brown hair was a little messed up, like he'd run his hair through it a lot right before I arrived.

God, if he'd just smile or soften his fiery gaze. I moved around in my seat as if I were already handcuffed.

"Did you not like spending time with your dad?" he probed.

I thought that was an odd question to just toss out. He would not take his eyes off of me, not ever. And he rarely blinked. There was no relief from his constant gaze.

"I do but…he drinks a lot, usually with his buddies. They all drink – they would make passes at me – I never felt safe there, but I had to work there."

"At your dad's pub?" he said, making sure he was following.

I nodded.

"What was your uncle's name?" Paul kept a finger against his temple the whole time, that examining stare momentarily dropped to my chest. He quickly brought his gorgeous eyes back up to my face though. He made the perverted glance seem so accidental.

"Lonny," I said, sounding like I drew the name from a hat.

"You don't look like you've been crying." Oh my god, he knew. He knew.

"People mourn in different ways."

His phone went off in his pocket. He kept his eyes on mine as he slipped his hand in to answer.

"Sorry, I had an emergency this morning so I kept my phone on." He turned it off. Then he put it in a drawer like he'd never take it out again.

"So, how about your dad and your uncle," he crossed his arms. "Tell me about their relationship." If he didn't believe me, why was he doing this? Some form of torture?

"They did, you know, they weren't particularly close but…they got along." I really needed to sound more like a mourner. _Mourn, bitch. Mourn._ "It's just kind of a shock," I went on. Oh no, didn't I already say that? I was sweating. In my nervousness, I started toying with a little hole in my pantyhose.

"Having an uncle die that never existed would be kind of shocking."

Holy shit. I scrambled to think of something to say. I had nothing. My tongue was dry and a drop of sweat slipped down between my breasts.

"I don't know what you mean," I said in an awestruck sort of laugh. "He died."

"How?"

"He…stroked – had a stroke."

Paul gave a strange laugh.

"No – you don't believe me?"

"Do you believe you, Lindsay?" He held that stare. Those eyes – how did he never blink? I just didn't get it. He wasn't human. I'd really fucked up.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I don't think you know what you're talking about," he instantly replied. I stood up. I'd totally wrecked this opportunity to get to know him and I could tell he was livid with me.

"Sit," he ordered, pointing to the chair I'd been sitting in. He had no doubt at all that I would do what he said.

"It's hot in here," I whined. Sweat was dripping down my back now too. He opened the drawer and aimed a small remote to the air conditioner. Instead of adjusting it, he simply turned it off. Then he took something else out of his drawer.

17

"I can go," I said. "You clearly don't want me here…" I spoke as he took out a pair of black handcuffs.

"Yes, I do," he said, unshaken as he searched for something else in his drawer. His Irish accent was thick and temperamental. "I cancelled my plans tonight to help you grieve. Look me in the eye, Lindsay," he used an earth-shattering fatherly tone of voice that time. He was calm and yet I could feel all of his anger like it was an earthquake. "And tell me if your uncle really died or not."

"I don't have an uncle," I finally said. "Could I…have some water?"

He just stared at me like I hadn't asked for water. He was the kind of man who only heard what he wanted to hear.

"Listen – I'm sorry I lied." This had to be about the tenth time I apologized to him. How he wore me down ever since the first time I saw him, worn me down into this apologetic sweaty sop.

"I just – Karen talks about you very fondly and I am new here…in this town. I don't even know if I want to be here. It's hard for me to make friends – how do you get people to care these days?"

His eyes just got more smoldering and intoxicating as he watched me. Mine fell to those handcuffs.

"You…I just wanted your attention." My heart beat so loud I was sure it would drown out what I was saying.

"Do you still want my attention?" The question had a lot of weight to it. I felt my heart stomp around in fear I would say yes. And no.

"Yes." I looked at him as the word slipped out of my quivering lips. That was that then, his expression communicated, and he picked up the black handcuffs. One of the cuffs dangled from his index finger as he stood up and came over to me.

He stood in front of his desk with a proud glow in his eye.

"Tell me something before we take it to this level – something that makes you sad."

"My dad…the thought of not being under his protective yet drunken gaze…anymore. I'm on my own."

"To come here and get handcuffed to a chair," he added.

My body wanted to move. It wanted to feel something. It also didn't want to be tainted or hurt. But this desire was consuming. It was tireless. Night ran with lovers and I'd been alone in it with only my fantasies for so long.

"Your soft little brain never computed that maybe, one day, your daddy wouldn't be there to take care of you?" he belittled.

Soft little brain? That actually upset me.

"I actually have won writing contests – I was even approached to write for The Belfast Fog."

"The Belfast Fog is bullshit." It wasn't even open for argument. He made his opinion sound like one of the Ten Commandments.

As he stood there pronouncing his height, his power, his masculinity, my eyes went down to the outline of his cock in his pants. It sort of shifted to the right pocket, making a nice hard lump there as it turned up in excitement.

It was so hot in here, it was miserable.

"Put your hands behind your back."

"I don't…I…" Everything is so much easier in the fantasy. You could live out the fun without suffering from the pain.

"I…"

"Put your hands…behind the chair." His demand was final.

I put my arms behind the chair. They absolutely could not stretch enough for my fingers to lace. Paul helped me by grabbing my wrists and yanking them aggressively.

"OWE!" I fell forward in the chair in pain. Sweat began to pour even more. I felt disgusting. "Owe, owe," I sobbed as pain raced down my arms from my shoulders. "Please."

"Shh." I heard the clicks as the durable metal cuffs locked around my wrists.

"Oh my god," I tried to succumb to the pain as he put his hand on my head and started playing with my hair. Sweat was pouring down my face now. He pulled on my hair to straighten me out. My body didn't want to comply and it made the pain worse in my shoulders. And something told me this was only the beginning.

He walked back around me so he was standing in front of me again, eyeing me slow and observant as I sat there in unthinkable pain, sweating.

I started breathing funny and it made my chest rise. He stared at my breasts. This blouse was a bit too small on me and was damp with sweat.

He could do anything he wanted to me now, and he let the fact drift over me, wash over my skin like the sweat. He let me squirm and wonder what was in store for me.

"Please," I said.

"Please what?" he said, chin up, eyes reigning with domination.

"My arms hurt."

"That's the point," he clarified. He had something in his hand, some kind of ball, and he started tossing it up in the air before he walked over to me. He picked the rope up from his desk and quickly wrapped it around my ankles and the chair's legs so I was completely fastened down.

Then he traced his thumb over my lips. "Open, darling," he said.

I shook my head in protest but the blood in my pussy was hot and I was just as excited as he was.

"Oh my god," I struggled, the pain was intoxicating. My left shoulder hurt. I think he dislocated it when he forced my hands together.

"You can't…" the pain took over my every thought as he calmly shoved the ball in his hand into my mouth. It was almost too big to get inside. He forced it with his fingers. It tasted like his skin. It also tasted like something else too, something I couldn't quite pinpoint.

He then took a nice new roll of grey duct tape off his desk and calmly pulled a nice chunk from the roll, cutting it with a pair of scissors. He placed the tape over my mouth so the ball was in there for good.

"Mmph!" Sweat poured into my eyes, stinging them, before running over the tape. He watched me as if he was trying to think of a new fun thing to do to me. He took a moment to touch himself. He was very aroused. His cock was pointing outward at me like _yes, that is the right way, into her_. Paul started to unzip his trousers.

"Mmmph," I shut my eyes and felt a little queasy. Just a drop of water down my throat would do a world of good. A nice cold splash of it on my face.

Then I heard her ringtone – Karen's. That irritating Fifth Harmony song filled up the room. The song was supposed to be a liberating song about independent women. It just seemed like a cruel joke now. He took Karen's phone out of his pocket as a smirk lifted his mouth.

He had her phone! My heart slammed around in my chest as I realized what this meant.

"I enjoyed your texts last night," he said. "All about me." He leaned forward to get a better look at my stinging, crying eyes.

He ran his knuckles down my soft, wet cheek.

"You're a virgin, but you think you can take pain. I find that very interesting. I was up all night long thinking of things we can do."

_Oh my god. Oh my god. What did he do with Karen?!_ It was a question I was not allowed to ask aloud. He had her. Now he had me too.

He leaned back a minute and took his huge cock out of his pants. It was enormous in both width and length. Oh my god.

He gave a nice, spookily polite grin. "Don't worry; she's working on her tan. She'd been in the tanning bed for quite some time now."

What? Oh my god. I felt sick.

His fingers slowly unbuttoned my blouse.

"Let's see if you need some sun," he said, inspecting my chest. I started struggling – my body reeling with both panic and excitement. _Was he going to kill me? Dear God, Karen, poor Karen. _

I looked down as he finished opening my blouse. He gently moved it so my breasts were exposed in my tight black bra. He reached back and unhooked it with no problem (usually I had to work almost two minutes to get the stubborn hook to latch) and my tits jiggled as if to celebrate their freedom from the cups. He tossed my bra aside.

"Mmph," I tried to breathe, I tried to tell myself to calm down. He took a break to go get some water from the cooler. He drank it right in front of me, which left me mangled with envy. He was slowly destroying me.

He leaned forward and looked me in the eye; his eyes were bluer now and infused with superiority. He wanted to see how much pain he could put me through. I was sure he'd collect every drop of sweat, every tear, and put it in a cup and drink it in front of me.

He put his hands on his knees as he leaned forward and calmly but sternly informed, "If you want some water, you're going to have to work for it."

I let out this desperate sigh and tried to agree, telling him I would do whatever he wanted by nodding profusely.

"How does that ball feel?" he asked. "Too big for your little mouth?"

I nodded again.

"Good."

He walked behind me with the pair of scissors. Oh my god. My body clenched with fear. It couldn't go anywhere. I felt like a little rabbit in a lion's mouth.

_Please god…oh my god. _

I felt him pull some of my hair and then I heard the slight grinding sound of the blades as they met and he came back around with some of my hair.

He put the hair on his desk and leaned against his desk and grabbed his cock braggingly.

"I guess your soft little brain never wondered why I would have you come here afterhours. No one is here by the way – just you and me until the sun comes up. By then though, I will have bundled you up and taken you elsewhere."

Oh god. I felt a bizarre sickness taking over. It was sort of like when I was a kid and I got on the big rollercoaster that scared me but also gave me such a thrill. The big climb up the biggest hill just to drop almost straight down, just to feel like in that moment you were flying but really you were strapped down and a metal bar pressed into your body in the most painful way reminding you that you really could never go anywhere. And if you did, you would just fall and die. It was just a quick, expensive little ride you were on.

"You're beautiful," Paul Spector said. "I want to rush into you and ruin everything but I also want to take my time. You're very expressive, every morsel of fear lights your eyes up like diamonds. It's addictive. You are beautiful in every way, but especially when you suffer."

He went back behind his desk. "Speaking of diamonds…" he opened his drawer and took out some little nugget-type-things. The butterflies and bows from my swimsuit. He'd cut them off! He also took out my purple panties I couldn't find this morning.

He had them all. He held the panties up in front of his brutally handsome face and inhaled them deeply.

"I slept with these last night as I planned this night out," he let me know. "I jerked off the hardest I ever have."

He came back around so he was in front of his desk, just inches from my sweaty, aching body.

"You shouldn't have lied to me," he informed. Oh god. My pussy was burning with excitement but the rest of my body wanted to lock itself away – store itself in some high tower away from all men. I was terrified of what he might do. He spoke like there was no consequence to his actions. Nothing to worry about. Ever.

He took his own phone out and put Karen's away after shutting it off. He started taking pictures of me as I sat there in my helpless state. He tugged on his cock too, his eyes shutting for a minute. He had the flash on just to blind me with it.

I tried to beg "please" from behind the ball. It was only a wet, ridiculous sound of helplessness.

18

"You didn't fuck yourself with Karen's dildo, I hope," he said.

I shook my head and stared wide-eyed at what was in store for me. His cock was huge and looked minutes away from spurting everywhere. He held back. The look in his eyes tightened.

He got down on his knees and separated mine, pushing them apart as far as they would go and creating a little pain in my legs.

"Mmmph!" My head dropped forward, sweat dripped down on my legs now. Something was on this ball he gagged me with too, and it was making me feel very foggy and nauseous.

"Glad to hear you're still nice and tight." He put his finger in the hole in my pantyhose, fingering it so it got bigger. The hole was on my inner right thigh, not too far from my pussy. He made sure to look in my eyes and I couldn't help but stumble into his burning gaze.

He ripped my pantyhose all the way up so now the only thing protecting me were those boring white cotton panties. I felt his finger go in my underwear, felt its warm skin against my throbbing pussy.

I shut my eyes as he got very curious with me, pushing his finger up inside of me. My knees tried to find each other again when he pushed them far apart, drawing new pain.

"MMMPH!" He didn't push his finger all the way in, only halfway.

"Oh my god, Lindsay," he sighed. "So tight." He touched my face and stood back up, leaving my panties in a rumpled ball of wetness and my thigh exposed in my tattered pantyhose. I'd been messed with but not defiled. My sweet sex smell took over the room.

19

I woke up in the back of his car. He must have drugged me – soaked that ball in chloroform before he put it in my mouth and started molesting me. I felt some sticky substance on my chest. Did he ejaculate on me? I couldn't remember. I must have passed out in the chair before he did.

He had me hogtied now. It was incredibly uncomfortable. He left me so my breasts were smashed against the leather of his backseat, my ankles and hands tied together. Every part of my body ached except my vagina. He hadn't fucked me yet. I still felt where his finger had been because I was that pure, I was that unused to being touched.

I felt something plastic and cutting into my wrists. I think he used zip-ties on me. He had his window cracked so a breeze hit my bottom and my pussy. He'd removed my underwear and pantyhose. He kept my blouse on me for whatever reason, unbuttoned. The tape was still over my mouth but started to lose its stickiness. He'd taken the ball out – I guess now the chloroform had entered my body so there was no reason for it.

I lifted my head and looked out of the window, which told me nothing. It was dark and raining. I got the feeling he had been driving for quite some time, taking me some place where no one would find me; a look of determination on his face as he stared ahead at the endless dark road.

I let out a tired moan and Paul started talking to me in that deep, hypnotic tone of his.

"I'll give you a pill for the pain in your shoulder," he let me know.

"Mmmph?" I helplessly moaned in response. It was supposed to be a question: Where are you taking me? For how long? What will you to do me once you have me there?

But the chloroform was still traveling around in my system, and I got very tired again and rested my head against the cold leather seat as rain made its way in through his window, dampening my naked bottom.

By the time we reached our destination, my ass was soaked with summer rain. The car came to a complete stop and Paul got out. My body was still trying to come to terms with its helpless state. My "soft little brain" kept telling it to move, it didn't understand that I could not move whatsoever. I was only a helpless collection of soft flesh awaiting his torture.

He opened the backdoor and more rain fell on my body, a hard wind pushing it on in. I felt his warm firm hand on my bottom, checking me out.

"You're soaked," he noted. My body got all worked up again. His fingers slipped down my cheeks towards my pussy. He got in and turned me over and looked at my breasts and placed his hand on my throat and pushed. I struggled beneath the pressure as he got down on top of me, pinning me with his hips and knees as he crushed my throat.

"MMPH!" I struggled to move. I didn't want to die yet! My heart leapt about in fear, trapped in my healthy body. No not yet, please, please!

His hand was unbelievably strong, his knees pressing into my thighs as I struggled and rain adorned us both. His other hand was between my legs, his finger going halfway in me, as I started to lose consciousness. My body just couldn't take much more. His, however, only seemed to get stronger. He started kissing me and moaning, covering my nipples with his warm mouth and perfectly strong teeth. I could feel his erection, his sharp hips jutting, his knees pressing, his teeth biting, his hand strangling…

I woke up to him carrying me to a small cottage that was the color of rain. It was surrounded by woods. There was no sign of civilization around, just this house which looked abandoned – like it had been empty for years.

My throat hurt and I couldn't swallow – it was as if something was lodged in it. Paul held me so I was facing the ground, my limbs all connected behind my back. He carried me like it was nothing – like a football on his shoulder he was about to throw.

Once he had me inside the dark, dank house, he tossed me on the bed so a spring in the lumpy mattress hit the side of my face near my eye. I move around as he lit a candle and I looked up at the discolored wallpaper of flowers covering the wall. He ripped the tape off of my mouth.

"You can't scream now anyway," he said, running his fingers through my hair and kissing me on the cheek.

"Where am I?" I asked, but my voice was not there. I could only make wheezing sounds. He'd ruined my voice box. He took the scissors and started cutting the wad of plastic zip ties and whatever else kept me bound. I was too weak to fight, my limbs felt like useless mush.

He turned me over and held my wrists down to the bed. Just get it over with, I thought. I wanted to swallow badly, but I couldn't. Saliva built up in my mouth. He reached back for a handkerchief in his pocket and collected spit in the corners of my mouth. It smelled like chloroform and I didn't want it anywhere near my mouth and moved my head in protest until he puts his hand on my forehead, keeping me from turning my head. He cleaned my mouth and then he sorted me out, spreading my ankles and hands and retying them over the skin rubbed raw there. This time I was tied to bedposts, my body eagle-spread to Paul's liking.

Once he had me bound once again, he looked relaxed. His eyes never seemed to express tiredness. He always looked wide awake and somewhat frustrated.

"Why…" I tried and talked.

"You want this – all of it. I'm giving you what you want. Slowly." His voice had never sounded so deep. The silence of this creepy house really brought his tone alive – deep and thick. I felt his power sweep over me; my pussy hot and agitated with curiosity. Would he ever touch me again?

"I'm going for a jog," he let me know.

What? A jog? Right now?

He tossed the handkerchief down on my face after he stood up. The last thing I wanted was to smell more of that chemically smell.

20

When Paul returned, he was in his jogging attire. I could smell the rain and sweat on his body. He took his shirt off and I couldn't help but stare lustfully. How could a man be so gorgeous and so sadistic? It just wasn't right. His dark grey jogging pants rode low on his hips as if invisible safety-pins kept them there. He came over to me with a pill and a glass of water.

"Where…is Karen?" I tried hard to talk normally, to project my voice. I knew he could hear me even though it was an asthmatic whisper. He looked at me, fixated with me and frowning.

"She died a very slow, painful death. I stood over the tanning bed, listening to her struggle and cry as she burned."

"Tanning bed? You put her in…" I shut my eyes.

"She wanted it."

_You bastard._ I felt his fingers on my lips.

"She applied for my control. Open," he pressed. I parted my lips and felt him put the pill on my tongue. He held the glass of water up to my mouth and I swallowed.

He got up and picked a huge duffel bag up from the floor and put it across my lower legs. Its weight kept my legs pinned down. He gave me a casual glance before he unzipped it. I couldn't stop staring at his abs. When he bent over, I could see the top of his ass, right where it started to perk because his jogging pants were riding low on him.

I watched as he took things out of the duffel bag – my things. More underwear, my black swimsuit, things I didn't recognize that were probably Karen's.

The fact that he stole and cut up my black swimsuit angered me so. I started fighting against the binds. I was going nowhere, and the more I struggled, the more the binds irritated my skin. He knew this too – I could see his eyes cloud with self-satisfaction. I looked up and noticed he had used my pantyhose to tie my left wrist with. It was as if he was telling me something – bragging that he'd used one of my garments as something to tie me up with.

"You will also die a slow, painful death," he calmly informed, talking slow to make sure the words sunk into my "soft little brain."

"I just haven't figured out how yet," he went on. "I jogged around tonight, thinking of how I want to hurt you – kill you. It made me so hard. I'm still hard."

I pictured him in the rain, sweating, the rain beating down on his erection. Such a thought made me ill with lust.

He looked at me with that calm, grey gaze of his. He had a pair of my panties in his hand. He brought them to his face and inhaled. Then he reached down into his jogging pants, his hand shifting around as he played with himself.

Was he about to...?

I tried to move again but I couldn't. He had my legs spread to his liking. At any time, he could take me, change me. I was helpless and receptive. My sweet eager smell fragranced the room to an embarrassing degree as he made me wait, prolonging every little thing and demonstrating the power he had over me.

"It's amazing how much torture the body can take, Lindsay. The mind keeps telling you it can overcome it. It can heal. It takes a lot of pain…to change the mind's way of thinking, to break the mind apart." He touched the side of my face and I winced. He eventually took his hand away and stood tall, displaying perfect posture and power, and pushed his jogging pants down so I could see the tip of his cock as it stood straight up, full and ready.

"I could sense the moment Karen's mind broke. I stripped her naked and tied her up before I put her in the tanning bed. Once the heat became too much, her mind gave up, she was no longer convinced she'd be okay. Her skin was burning and she was trying to scream but I gagged her good – her tears, sweat and saliva soaking the rag sticking out of her little mouth. She kept moving around, trying to thrash her body against the lid of the bed. I think it took an hour for her to finally give in. Her moans changed too, I think she wanted me to kill her – get it over with quick – but I just stood there, smelling her as she burned. Most people don't appreciate their life until they start to feel it slip away. I make them appreciate it by slowly taking it away. Some beg a lot. I give it back for a minute and then slowly drag it out of them again."

I couldn't imagine the horrific way Karen died.

"I haven't decided if I want you to die a pure, innocent virgin or a filthy whore. I could fuck you enough times to make up for your absent dating life, leaving you so defiled or…I could leave you untouched." I looked down at his hand as he pushed his jogging pants down further to display his gorgeous cock and balls emerging from his slender, perfect body.

He placed his eyes on me. He was immensely calm. "Which one would you like to die as?"

"I'm sorry…" I said; my voice a raspy mess. "I'm sorry I said my mother should kill herself."

"Why? You meant it. You seem confused about everything else – but you meant that."

"But your mother…killed herself. How old were you?"

His eyes emptied. "That doesn't matter. Your mother and my mother are…were two different people."

"Please," I said as he sat down on the edge of the bed and put his hand on my knee.

"Tell me how you want to die. Do you want me to fuck you first?"

I didn't know; I was so confused. I was riddled with emotion. I looked up at the tight rope and pantyhose squeezing my wrists as his hand started to move up my body. He knew what he was doing, setting me on fire with every touch. He groped my breasts as my wrists and ankles throbbed from being squeezed by their restraints.

"Want me to choke you again?" he asked, as if offering me something beautiful.

"No, no, not that." I didn't know what I wanted. I was so confused. "Are you going to kill me after you fuck me?"

"Not right away," he stood up from the bed. I wanted him to touch me again. "I told you, it will be slow – whatever method I use on you – it will happen slowly." He ran his hand over his beard, thoughtful. I was looking at him differently, like I was trying to pull him into me with my eyes.

"I know, you want it," he said, sensing the blood stirring in my pussy just like his filled his cock.

He took one more thing out of the duffel bag – a video camera. He started setting it up. He was going to record it! Once he was done getting it ready, a tiny red light shined to let me know it was documenting this. He got on the bed and my body revved up excitedly. His fingers pressed down into my soft thighs. As he ran his fingers up and down my legs; he studied the look in my eyes.

"You're probably very weak from the pill and the chloroform," he assumed. I nodded. _Very weak._

"Shush." He put his hand on my bruised neck and I twitched so my body hit his. He was so solid, so warm and threatening. He placed his fingers between my legs.

"Mmph!" He slipped a finger inside of me and my body rocked with pleasure and fear. He reached up and pulled on the pantyhose with his other hand, making the knot holding my wrist into position even tighter. He checked the other three too, making sure he was in complete control before he filled me up.

21

He'd made his decision. He slipped two fingers up inside of me to prepare me. Even that hurt. He kissed my breasts and he moved the fingers in a circle, providing the most amazing mix of pain and pleasure.

"Yes," he said to my body's response. "You're so ready, sweet girl." He slithered against me, rubbing himself against my leg as he gave me very sweet kissed on my breasts. He started pushing his two fingers in and out in a fascinating rhythm.

"Untie me please," I said, still sounding like I had laryngitis. "I won't fight you, I just want to move, I want to move against you."

"No," he said, plain and simple. It turned me on how domineering he was, but I would like to be free to express how much I wanted him.

"Please," I begged as he took his fingers out of me and put them in his mouth.

"You're sweet," he said after tasting me. Then he kissed me so I could taste myself along with his mouth. I felt him trying to get inside of me. It was going to take some effort. Then I felt this enormous pressure as he drove it inside and my body was forced to receive him.

"OH!" I shut my eyes tight and felt this pressure greatly, waking up every single part of my body, ripping me out of the past, out of my pajamas I used sleep in, out of my safety, out of my chastity. "OH GOD!" I felt his warmth; I felt it all drive inside of me. His smell – I bet it would permanently cling to my soft skin.

"Oh my god," he sighed. He loved me like this. I could not move whatsoever as he glided up deep inside of me and I felt the warm gush of blood spill over my thighs.

"Please…oh god…ahhhh…oh…oh my god," I tried to bite his shoulder and he quickly put his hand over my mouth.

"No biting, darling," he said, pushing himself up in me further. "Jesus," he sighed.

"PMMMHHHH!" I really wanted him to untie me. My body had grown restless. He pain was enormous – _he_ was enormous. I couldn't do anything. My body calmed for a minute as he pulled out a little just to reintroduce his girth to me and pain exploded again and more blood left me.

"MMMPH…mmmm…" I moaned against his hand. Then I felt this mix of nausea and pleasure rocking my entire being.

He started to get really into it, thrusting harder, finding a deep steady rhythm. I thought I heard something – a banging sound. Maybe the bed was thumping against the wall.

"Oh-oh…nah…ahhh…" I shut my eyes tight as he started going at me ruthlessly. The pain was incredible. He said I "smelled sweet" and the pressure was endless. It hurt and my body was introduced to brand new pain as he tore me open. He still showered my breasts with loving kisses but I wished he'd untie me still.

Then I heard the banging sound again. It was getting louder – it wasn't a constant thud like the bed would have been against the wall. This was a violent banging sound and it was coming from the main room which I'd only been in once, when Paul carried me into the house and dumped me on this bed.

"Paul…Paul…"

"Shh, I'll be done soon," he said, but it didn't seem like it, he just kept going and I thought maybe I'd pass out soon. Then I saw someone standing in the doorway, watching us.

"PAUL!" I couldn't make out the figure, but it seemed to have a soft womanly shape.

"Yeah," he said, pleased, thinking I was screaming his name because of what he was doing to me – which was half true – but I was also screaming because someone was here. I stared at the shadowy figure because it was all I could do while Paul continued to have his way with me.

"Oh…" he started sighing against my neck. It was actually really sexy. When he came he somehow managed to get more aggressive, not losing himself in the orgasm. He pressed his hand against my forehead and gave a solid pelvic thrust, making sure he got every drop released inside of me.

22

I woke up sore the next day, and sticky. But I wasn't as tired, strangely. A part of me was awake – a new part of me. I felt like a woman. The sun pressed against the one dirty window of this old cottage, begging to get in. I heard Paul out in the main room and wondered what he was doing. I saw him when he walked by the door. He was in his jogging pants, nothing else. He came in with a bucket, holding its thin rusty wire-looking handle. He placed it down on the floor and gave me a look. His eyes were tight and unreadable. What was he thinking? Would today be the day he would kill me?  
"Please don't kill me," I begged. "I'll do anything you want – I'm not ready to die." I'm so young, I wanted to add, but my eyes clouded with tears and I just couldn't bring myself to say it, to plead with him anymore.

"Why do you want to live?" he asked. He seemed open to hearing my reasoning. He stood there and seemed, for one complete moment to be made of patience.

I couldn't answer the question.

"You're terrified of everything and yet curious. Did you enjoy last night?"

"Yes," I had to admit. "My arms are so tired." I shut my eyes and wished silently to be untied. I would not run. I knew he would catch me – him and his healthy jogging legs and strong arms would sweep me up from the dusty floor in no time and put me right back in bed. Besides, my body was too shaky from lack of food and loss of blood.

"I was going to bathe you," he said. This was a surprise. I opened my eyes and looked down into the bucket. It smelled lemony – like something you'd scrub the floor with, not bathe a human. "With flammable cleaning products and then I was going to set you on fire." He said in the same tone, remarkably calm, like it wasn't a threat at all.

I started to move, trying to fight; fear soaked my body in sweat and my wrists burned from the restraints. I shook my head vigorously as he dropped a rag into the bucket.

"Then tell me why you want to live," he said.

"I don't want to die…"

"That's not good enough – I bet that's what your mom would say."

"PLEASE!" Normally that would be a scream out of frustration and horror but I could not scream. It was, if anything, a ferocious squawk.

"I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die, I don't…I don't." Tears ran down my face as he brought the rag out of the bucket. I noticed a fresh little box of matches just waiting on the bed.

I shut down momentarily. My arms had gone numb. I even looked up at them to make sure they were still there.

I heard the rag splash into the bucket.

"I'm going to give you a little time to think about it. Most people don't think about it – they blindly stumble through life and do what's expected. I want you to think, Lindsay. I'm giving you that opportunity. No alarm, no trains, no busses, no responsibility. Just lie there and think about life and what it means to you."

He stood up and slipped on a nice grey firm-fitting shirt to go jogging in. He put his sneakers on, tied them, got up and left the house.

I laid there for a very long time, wondering if I was cursed. What if I was like my mom? What if depression was just in the blood? I tried to come up with a definitive answer for what I wanted to live – other than not wanting to die. What was scarier than that?

Life. But there is a curiosity embedded in fear. He was going to set me on fire if I didn't say what he wanted to hear. I started to panic, which was no god when it came to thinking clearly. Panic also made my throat hurt worse.

My body twitched in agony when I heard the door slam. He was back already? I had no answer. Oh my god. I immediately started struggling against my binds, walking up my numbed arms and causing a brand new ache in them.

I smelled something awful, like a bag of rotten meat. It was so awful I felt queasier than ever. I heard footsteps but they weren't his. He walked with assertiveness, he walked with a plan. These footsteps were soft and dragged across the floor.

"Lindsay?" A voice called, a woman's. Karen? No, that wasn't possible. He killed her. I watched as two red hands gripped the doorframe. They were oozing from awful blisters. I wanted to cover my nose and mouth from her awful scent but I couldn't. I looked at Karen's wet hair and swollen face. Her lips were cracked and bleeding and she had a sore on her cheek.

"You wanted him, you took him from me," she accused as she came over to the bed.

"No, no I didn't – I didn't."

"We had plans, but he got upset with me because of you," she said. I watched helplessly as she climbed onto the bed. I felt her slimy leg next to mine. Her skin was so hot it burned mine.

"EVERYTHING WAS PERFECT UNTIL YOU CAME ALONG – PERFECT! PERFECT!" she screamed, her eyes and mouth wide open with rage.

"Please…" I struggled to get loose even though I knew it was pointless. She slapped her fingers over my arms and it burned like the metal of a frying pan that had been on the stove for hours.

"AHHHHHHHH!" I was in so much pain that I managed to scream louder that time.

"Did he take it from you?" she asked; her face a few inches from mine. I could smell that oozing sore on her face. It smelled like old ham. She glanced down between my legs.

"He did – he ruined you, didn't he?" She leaned in closer and hissed, "Let's seeeee."

"PLEASE! NO!" I felt her burning hand slide up my leg. I felt like my body was on fire. "Don't!"

"Did he take it? He did, didn't he? There's so much blood! You no longer have that innocent light in your eyes – he flushed it out. He fucked it out!" she was so angry with me, she sounded possessed. Her tone of voice went from sardonic to complete rage and she slapped me across the face before placing her scalding hand on my pussy.

"NOOOO! NOOOOO!" I squawked like a bird and her hand slipped, burning the rope that had held me to the bedpost for so long. My wrist fell from its hold and I quickly grabbed her by the hair and snapped her head. It was a lot easier than I thought, like snapping a doll's head off of its rubber neck. She fell from the bed and I got up and ran through the house, crying the whole way. I ran out into the overgrown grass and felt the moist cool air of a rainy morning against my skin. The touch was cool and comforting against my sore body as I ran like mad into the woods, screaming for help as loud as I could.

But I still didn't know why.

The End


End file.
